


Coming Home

by kg1507



Category: DCU (Animated), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Supermartian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4253196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kg1507/pseuds/kg1507
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequal to “Gone Away.” Conner awakens from his year-long hibernation to a world that has been ravaged and broken from an Invasion he was not there for. In the aftermath, he must make a decision to either rejoin his friends and family and become a hero once more, or leave to forge a new path on his own, no longer a boy, but a man both inside and out for the first time in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: THIS IS A SEQUAL FIC. It would be super helpful if you read "Gone Away" BEFORE starting this one!

In the darkness, there was nothing. He had a feeling there had been nothing for quite some time, but the thought didn’t frighten him. There was a gentle breeze whispering across his subconsciousness, a murmur, letting him know all was well and that the Nothing was nothing to fear at all.

And then Nothing drifted away, becoming something more.

The black faded and the world became a sea of clouds, massive in size and endless in sight. Yellows and pinks clashed with purple streaks as colors of a glorious sunset painted the sky. Its movement was slow and grand, like the first few notes of a symphony.

No, wait. The sky wasn’t moving. That was wrong. It was him. He knew it was - because nothing had ever felt so familiar in his life. The skies were his, the wind obeyed his every command, lifting him higher and higher. He only had to think it, and his body instinctively knew what to do. It was a part of him, as natural as breathing.

He thought he heard a voice, but easily pushed the notion from his mind. A flash of color whipped into his line of vision and he turned his head. It was a cape - a magnificent red cape that fluttered in the wind behind him. He looked down at his chest and instead of being shocked, he regarded the symbol with a quiet smile, almost as if he had momentarily forgotten who he was, but just as quickly remembered; who he was always meant to be.

_Day 369, January 17th, eight hours, seven minutes - subject’s brain patterns have been steadily increasing in activity for several days now -_

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He dove forward as if in slow-motion, letting gravity take control as he plummeted through layers of clouds. The air was cold against his face and he grinned, elated.

_\- is fighting the kryptonite solution. It seems his body has decided that it’s time to awaken. Subject shows no sign of significant pain or trauma. Beginning draining process momentarily…_

The voice was louder now, but like a fly buzzing around his ear, there was no reason to be concerned. There was no cause for worry, no need for fear - nothing but the sky stretched to infinity before him and the wind rippling through his suit. He slowly raised his arms out in front of him, his hands curled into fists, ready to add the final burst of speed that would send him out of orbit, into space, beyond the stars…

And suddenly, that world was gone.

Conner gasped for air, sputtering in a panic. His palms were flat against the slick surface in front of him, his hair wet and dripping down his face. His breath was stuck in his throat as he heaved, his vision unfocused as he frantically tried to get his bearings. Everything was blurry and curved inward, like he was sitting at the bottom of a glass. It was too familiar, but he didn’t know why.

He felt a swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach as if he had fallen. How had he ended up on the ground? Who had knocked him out of the sky? One hand flew to his chest to grab his symbol and he stared dumbfounded at his bare chest, nothing but tiny green droplets covering his skin.

Who was he?

“Superboy! Superboy, look at me! Look at me!” Someone was yelling at him. A man - did he know him? Dr. Hamilton put his hand up to the glass and tapped. The noise sounded like gunshots in his ears and he covered them with a groan. His next words were muffled and it was several moments before he could lower his hands and attempt to concentrate.

“Look at me, my boy. Yes, that’s it! Look right here! Keep looking right here!” Hamilton grabbed a small recording device from his front pocket and began to speak. Conner was mesmerized by the tiny red glow and only heard every other word that was spoken.

“369 days, Eight hours, twelve minutes - Superboy has awoken from cryo-sleep. Displaying significant disorientation and expected weakness of limb, but so far no other symptoms detected. Will now determine mental stability post-experiment.”

Dr. Hamilton leaned closer to the glass. “Superboy, what is your name? Can you tell me your name?”

Conner’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, but his vision was beginning to clear. He closed his eyes and shook his head, immediately regretting it as the glass began to spin again. “S-Su… Superboy?” No, that couldn’t be right. That wasn’t his name. He was a man. He was Super-man… Wasn’t he?

“No, no, your human name. Your real name! Come on now, think hard, your real name!” Dr. Hamilton urged him, his voice tinged with worry. His hand was turning red from gripping his recorder so tightly.

He tried to think. He had been in the clouds. He had been flying. But before that, what had happened? Who had he been? He had so many questions and absolutely no idea where to start.

He ignored Hamilton’s continued pleas, ignored the ringing in his ears and the slow tilt of the world around him and stared at the small puddle he was kneeling in. He stared into it as if it might hold all the answers, if he could just look deep enough into the emerald green abyss and pull them out.

He was suddenly drawn to the starkness of his black shorts, the ones he did not remember putting on and which felt so alien to the red and blue suit he normally wore.

Green… Black…

And it all came rushing back like a dam that had finally burst, freeing his mind from the Nothing and returning every lost second back to him. He remembered everything, triggered by memories of a green girl in a black t-shirt.

Conner met Hamilton’s eyes for the first time and pushed wet bangs from his forehead, feeling calmer. Still, his voice was unsteady as he spoke for the first time in over a year.

“My name is Conner Kent, Doctor Hamilton.” He felt very dizzy very quickly, and knew he was about to pass out. He grabbed a fistful of the doctor’s coat and weakly hung on, like a child. “Did it… Did it work?”

Conner’s world became Nothing once more, and he spun back into the darkness before he could hear a reply.


	2. Chapter 2

When Conner opened his eyes again, he came face to face with a bright, glaring light that caused dark spots to burst in front of him. He winced, turning his head only to find that several large lamps surrounded him, all with the same intense glow. Groaning, he waited for his vision to clear. At the sound of his discomfort, footsteps approached.

“Try to take it easy, Superboy,” Dr. Hamilton stood over the long table where he lay. He looked tired and there were a few more lines under his eyes than Conner remembered, but his worn face was beaming. “I’ve managed to mimic sunlight to the best of my ability, but it’s not nearly as effective as the real thing. Still, it should be enough to get you back up on your feet.” He gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t anticipate that your cells would require a boost before the extraction began. Stupid of me, really. You HAVE been without solar radiation for some time now...”

Conner stretched, feeling the imitation sunlight sink into his skin. It may not be real according to the scientist, but it was definitely doing its job. He cleared his throat, a bit more awake now. “How long?”

“One year and four days. Then you slept for one more, after you fainted. Today is January 18th, 2017.”

Conner shook his head in amazement. “It feels like just yesterday... I remember everything.”

“Well, that isn’t so unbelievable,” Hamilton said. “Those were the last memories your brain had registered, and no new ones were created for over a year. It’s only natural that you remember them so clearly.”

Conner nodded absentmindedly. He tried to wrap his head around it, to make himself realize the depth of what he’d been through. A year of his life, gone, in literally a blink of an eye. He’d known what he was getting into beforehand, what he’d been willing to give up; but now that he’d gone through with it and come out the other side, he felt unsettled.

“The Invasion - did we win?”

Hamilton paused, opening his mouth slightly as if trying to decide how to answer. “Yes, but... Not without consequences.” When he didn’t elaborate, Conner pushed aside the sinking feeling in his stomach and moved on.

He sat up, ignoring Dr. Hamilton’s concerned admonishment. “Have you done any tests?”

Hamilton smiled widely now, clearly excited. He pulled out a small tablet and began flicking through charts and diagrams, full of numbers and formulas that made no sense to anyone but him. “I finished with the examination just an hour ago. Everything checks out. A percentage of your Kryptonian DNA was successfully rewritten, and the catalyst you were submerged in and received intravenously throughout the year sped your growth to make up for your years of stagnation. It was a complete success.”

Conner didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until his lungs began to tighten and burn. He exhaled slowly, hardly daring to believe. “You mean...”

Dr. Hamilton pocketed the tablet and took a few steps to the right, wheeling over a full-body mirror and placing it in front of Conner. He tilted it forward and grinned with his accomplishment, chuckling at Conner’s expression of pure shock.

“Congratulations, Superboy. From this day on, you will never again be ageless.”

Conner stared at his reflection, his jaw slack and eyes wide as he drank it all in.

His hair had grown, covering just above his earlobes and down to the base of his neck. It was thicker, fuller, and long bangs fell into his eyes at the slightest movement. He touched it uncertainly. He’d never had to cut his hair before - his DNA hadn’t allowed for growth at all. Then he noticed the same jet black coloring his jaw and the underside of his neck. Facial hair. His fingers grazed over the prickly stubble, strongly reminded of the sandpaper in Mr. Kent’s barn. He smiled at that.

His face was leaner, more defined and less boyish. He was still shirtless, and saw more hair spiraling on his chest. Immediately he knew that had to go. He had also lost some of his muscle mass in the pod, but only by a fraction. When he tentatively stood up and tested his weight, the top of his head disappeared over the mirror. He had grown several inches as well.

Conner smiled, letting himself feel the relief wash over him. It had worked. His body now felt and looked like that of a 22-year old. His days of watching friends and family grow up and grow old, with him sitting on the sidelines, were over.

“Finally...” He murmured to himself, so quietly that only he could hear the catch in his voice.

* * *

 

Conner held his black t-shirt loosely in his hands, staring blankly at the red insignia. It no longer fit him, the hem ending just above his hips; his pants were shorter as well. Dr. Hamilton had prepared for this beforehand, and presented him with a new set of clothes after making sure he was completely set to be discharged. The doctor had been surprisingly accurate in predicting Conner’s new measurements; his shirt fit perfectly, not too tight or too loose, and the jeans were snug and comfortable. He’d been unexpectedly pleased with the dark blue of the shirt, rather than anticipating the black he’d worn for the last five years. Maybe a new body deserved a new look. After changing, Conner caught another glance in the mirror and was once again struck by how different he looked. He still saw traces of the boy he’d been, but they were subtle. He wondered what Clark and the Kents would say.

Conner gently folded the tshirt and placed it in his bag of meager possessions. There wasn’t much - just his old clothes and his wrist hologram, similar to the one Dick used. He had given one to everyone on the team years before, calling it the “Robin Swiss Army Knife For Superheroes.” Conner had deactivated it before the procedure. He still hadn’t decided whether or not it would stay that way.

Dr. Hamilton entered the room with a soft courtesy knock. “I’ve tried contacting Superman, but he must be preoccupied with clean-up.”

Conner’s eyebrows furrowed. “Cleanup?”

Hamilton made a soft noise, as if berating himself for saying something he shouldn’t have. “Yes - Metropolis was one of the cities that took quite a bit of damage during the Invasion. Superman has done an enormous amount of reconstruction, but he’s being pulled in several directions at once. All of the Justice League are.”

Conner hesitated, then said slowly, “How long has it been since it ended?”

“Six months.”

“Six - ” Conner stuttered, his heartbeat quickening. “And there’s still that much damage?”

“A significant amount.” Hamilton replied softly. “They’re calling it the Invasion Crisis.”

There was a lengthy pause as Conner let that information sink in. He’d known that the Invasion had been growing into a bigger and bigger problem, especially once the Justice League had been called off-world, but he hadn’t imagined it would get so bad that it would earn the nickname, “Crisis.” He felt that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach again - the one he couldn’t put a name to.

Dr. Hamilton changed the subject. “You’re welcome to wait here - I’m sure Superman will be on his way soon.”

Conner shook his head. “No, that’s ok. I think you’ve probably had enough of looking at my face,” He grinned, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “And no offense, but I’m dying to get out of here.”

Hamilton nodding in understanding. “I figured as much.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black computer chip, extending it towards him. “This is a little something I put together for you - it’s a complete record of your progress over the last year, my observations and whatnot.” He shrugged to himself. “It might end up being dreadfully boring for you, but... well...”

Conner took it. “Thank you.” After a moment of hesitation, he added, “Thank you for everything. I wish I knew how... I can’t tell you how much...” He was embarrassed at his stuttering, but Hamilton smiled kindly.

“You’re most welcome. As a scientist, I’m thrilled the procedure was a success. And... as a friend...” The doctor placed a tentative hand on Conner’s shoulder, his eyes bright. “I’m glad I could help another Kryptonian.”

* * *

 

Conner slung his bag over his shoulder, breathing in the fresh air and basking in the warm sunlight. It felt heavenly on his skin, making his nerves twitch and his blood simmer in his veins.

 _“Where will you go?”_ Hamilton had asked before he’d set out.

 _“I don’t know,”_ Conner had replied, truthfully. _“I should probably find Superman first.”_

Hamilton nodded. _“Well, wherever you go, remember that you are always welcome here. If you should have any questions, or if there is a problem, come see me. I’m quite used to Supers coming in and out of the lab.”_ He smiled.

Conner had nodded, anxiety beginning to take hold as the unknown lay before him. He stepped into the Zeta tube and took a deep breath. His nerves must have been clear to the doctor.

 _“You’ll figure it out, whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”_ Hamilton said. _“Just live your life, Conner, the way you were always meant to.”_ Then there was a flash of light, a loud boom, and he was suddenly stepping out of the same phone booth he’d entered a year ago on the outskirts of the city.

His ears were immediately filled with the sounds of Metropolis, the chaos greeting him with a mighty roar. As he stepped out of the abandoned phone booth, he could hear car engines from four blocks over, bicycle tires spinning and brakes squealing, shoes slapping against the pavement; everything was magnified a hundred times over. Conner had forgotten how loud the city could be.

Rubbing his temple, he pulled out a small travel map and began walking towards the train station. Smallville was a good forty mile journey, and Conner knew one particular couple who would be anxious to see him after all this time.


	3. Chapter 3

Conner stood at the end of the narrow dirt road that led to the Kent farm, sounds of chicken clucks and dog barks echoing across the fields. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh, clean country air that he swore he could almost taste. The city was fine for those who liked a fast paced life, but Conner had never been comfortable in the large crowds of people, so thick and congested that it made him claustrophobic, and the sounds were overwhelming to his senses, assaulting him from all directions until he didn’t know which way was up or down. He didn’t know how Clark did it every day.

Here, in the wide open spaces of rural Kansas, Conner could be at peace. Fields of gold as far as the eye could see were his crowds, the windmills and weather vanes his skyscrapers. Here the sun shined brighter than any city lights, and crickets were his symphony rather than car horns. The first day Superman had brought him here was when Conner had finally understood the term “second home.”

Over the years, this place became his escape when he needed time to himself or time to heal from particularly brutal missions. Living with the Kent’s was what Conner imagined having parents was like – Martha was as sweet and warm as her apple pie, always keeping his room (Clark’s old bedroom) tidy and ready with freshly laundered sheets whenever he decided to drop by, unexpectedly or otherwise. Jonathan was by far the wisest man he’d ever met, always able to give Conner advice that more often than not was the deciding factor in most of his choices. They had been understandably shocked the first time Clark had brought him to their doorstep, but they were accepting and welcomed Conner into their home with open arms. They called him the second son they’d always wanted, and it was for this reason that Conner made this visit his first priority.

Conner looked up to the sky, wispy clouds lazily floating by on a gentle breeze. He didn’t really expect to see anyone up there, but he felt less foolish this way instead of talking to the ground.

“Clark, its uh.. It’s me – Conner. I know I told you you’d be the first to know when I woke up, but I guess you’re in the middle of something right now. So um… if you’re listening… I’m in Smallville. OK, uh… bye.” Conner shook his head and rolled his eyes to himself at his awkward ending. With one last deep breath, he walked past the rusty tin mailbox, up the porch steps, and knocked on the dark oak door. His stomach flipped with nervous excitement as he heard footsteps approaching and felt a jolt of adrenaline when the door opened, slowly revealing the thin woman standing behind it. She smiled politely and opened her mouth, about to greet the visitor when her eyes suddenly widened and the breath caught in her throat. Conner heard her heartbeat quicken at the sight of him and saw the imperceptible tilt of her head as she looked at him. He could see that her mind was frozen with sudden confusion, like it was playing tricks on her.

Conner gave her a tentative smile. “Hi, Martha.” He said quietly. “It’s me.”

Martha Kent narrowed her eyes, her brow furrowing softly. Her hand rose seemingly of its own accord and hovered next to his face. He could feel the warmth emanating from her fingers. “Conner?”

When he nodded in reply, her face split into a grin and she immediately pulled him into her embrace, nearly causing him to topple over her.

“Conner! Oh, look at you!  _Look_  at you!” She drew back and took his newly stubbled face in her hands. Conner was alarmed to see her eyes glassy with tears and he tried to reassure her with a smile, squeezing her arms lightly.

“It worked, Martha.” Conner said, trying to steady the excited waver in his voice. “The experiment - I can age now.”

Martha’s grin faltered for a split second. She bit her lip and tried to regain her composure, but Conner had seen the change. “Oh Conner, that’s wonderful. We were so worried when Clark told us what you were thinking of doing, and when that doctor told us how long you would be in there…” She trailed off. “He gave us updates, you know. Every week. When did you…”

“Just yesterday.” Conner said. There was a slight tremor in Martha’s body; her heart was pounding with his arrival, but there was something else just beneath the surface, something she wasn’t telling him.

A tear slipped down Martha’s face and she hastily wiped it away. “You look just like Clark, when he was a young man. Oh, if only…”

Conner pulled away, looking her in the eyes as a sudden dread came over him. “Martha… where’s Jonathan?” His gaze scanned the surrounding fields and searched the barn, looking for his heat signature. There were nothing but cows and their few horses. He looked back at Martha, feeling his own heart skip a beat. “Where is he?”

Martha took a shaky breath, steadying herself by gripping his forearms. She kept very still, as if it was taking all her strength to stay upright. “He… He had a heart attack, Conner. Two months ago.” She began to tremble more violently now, and Conner’s stomach dropped like a stone, sinking deeper and deeper into an endless abyss.

“He’s gone. Jonathan’s gone.” She collapsed into his arms and openly cried, each sound like a dagger to his heart. His arms slowly wrapped around her thin frame, shock paralyzing him both mind and body. He could feel his fingers go numb and an icy chill descended over his insides, but still he refused to believe. Jonathan Kent was the strongest man he knew; his heart was so big and full that it couldn’t possibly just give out on him. It was inconceivable.

A moment passed and Martha tried to regain composure, but the damage was done. Conner knew he would never forget the sound of her cries for the rest of his life. She took deep, calming breaths that Conner could feel against his own chest, slow rises and falls. Then he felt all her muscles relax, her body physically spent with weeks of mourning.

She rested her chin on his shoulder and sighed softly. Her voice was thin and wobbly. “He’d be so happy about this, you know - so glad that it was a success.” She squeezed him tighter. “If only he could see you now…”

* * *

_There really wasn’t a view more beautiful than this._

_Conner was perched on the edge of the barn loft, one arm lazily draped over his bent knee as he leaned his back against the frame of the window peak. The sky was a brilliant shade of orange this evening, with red clouds that were slowly fading to pink as the horizon swallowed the sun. He had just a few more days of sights like this before the date of the procedure, and he still hadn’t decided how he was going to tell Nightwing that he was leaving. He wouldn’t be happy, that was for sure, but it wasn’t like he could make him stay anyway. He’d made up his mind._

_The team could do without him for a year. Their ranks had grown so much in five years that they had to be split up into smaller squads for missions, and he wasn’t the only powerhouse anymore. Besides, the longer he waited, the more likely it was that someone would figure out that he’d been sneaking out of the Mountain every few days to Metropolis so that Doctor Hamilton could run more tests. Eventually someone would discover what he was planning and just how dangerous it was - and he wasn’t going to be talked out of it. Not by anyone._

_Conner heard the squeak of a floorboard but didn’t turn around to face his visitor. “She mad at me?” He asked._

_Jonathan sat down on a bale of hay next to him with a tired sigh. “No, Martha’s not mad. She’s just worried. We both are.”_

_“I told you about this months ago. You knew it was coming.”_

_Jonathan chuckled uneasily. “Yeah, well, that was months ago and this is now. Fear has a way of intensifying when we realize the thing we were afraid of is suddenly happening. We just want to make sure you know exactly what you’re walking into, here.”_

_Conner shot him a look. “Don’t. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m an adult, even if I might not look it on the outside. I know exactly what this means. You think I haven’t thought about everything I’m going to miss?”_

_Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”_

_“Of course I have!” Conner swung his leg back inside and clenched his fist. “I’m getting ready to go back into a pod, underground, for a very, very long time. I’m gonna risk everything - my powers, my life… but I have to do this. Even if it doesn’t work, even if I don’t wake up, I have to try.” He met his gaze with a painful look. “Can’t you understand that?”_

_Jonathan put his hand on Conner’s knee, patting it gently. “Of course I do, son. Believe me, I do. I know how badly you want this, to be like every other man in the world. I just…” He paused. “I just wish there was another way, a more surefire way. One where you didn’t have to leave.”_

_Conner’s face softened, hearing the concern in Jonathan’s voice and knowing it was for him. It was the same way he talked about Clark. “Me too.” He replied._

_Minutes passed as both men sat in silence. The sunset was almost over and the first few pinpricks of starlight were starting to peek through the inky blackness above. Conner wished this moment didn’t have to end, and he tried to hold onto it as long as he could. He didn’t know if he would dream once he was under, but he hoped that if so, he would dream of times like this._

_Jonathan stood up, groaning as his joints popped. “But you’re right, Conner, you’re not a child. And as much as we aren’t thrilled with all the risks involved in this little experiment, we’re not going to stop you. Hell, pretty sure we couldn’t even if we wanted to. Us Kent’s, we’re stubborn like that. Clark more than any of us.” He winked and Conner smiled, standing up as well._

_Before Conner knew what was happening, Jonathan had wrapped his arms around him in a huge, thick hug. He smelled sweet like hay and there was a sharp undertone of pine. Conner returned the embrace, feeling the older man thump him on the back._

_“You just come home, alright? Or I swear to God that scientist is gonna feel my right hook.”_

_Conner rolled his eyes with a slight smile. “Ok.”_

_“I mean it, I still got some fire left in these bones.”_

_“I know.”_

_Jonathan withdrew and squeezed Conner’s shoulders. He could feel how rough his fingers were even through his t-shirt. “You come home, and we’ll be here, Martha and me. Lord willing, we’ll be welcoming both of our sons home and Clark will tell us space stories while your head scrapes the top of the ceiling.” They chuckled and Jonathan clapped him on the back one more time, leading him towards the loft stairs. Conner stepped on the squeaky floorboard and Jonathan scowled._

_“I’m gonna fix that before you get back, too. I’ll be damned if I let this heap collapse before I do.”_

* * *

“Conner?”

He didn’t reply. He’d heard him coming a mile away but hadn’t made any effort to move. He didn’t want to move, didn’t think he  _could_  move. Once Conner had reached the top of the stairs over an hour ago, he’d intended on taking his place on the loft’s window ledge as he’d done a hundred times before - and then he’d stepped on that damn floorboard; its squeal sounded like a scream. That was when his heart had broken, and he knew this was real. He hadn’t moved since.

“Conner…” Clark’s footsteps were soft, almost delicate, words no one would think to use to describe the famous Man of Steel. When he’d made his first appearances and the press had gone absolutely crazy trying to uncover his story, there had been dozens of names that headlined the papers: The Metropolis Marvel, The Man of Tomorrow, one news station had even dubbed him Big Blue for a while - but until Lois Lane had taken a long look at the family crest he wore on his uniform and spoke the name that was now recognizable all over the world, he’d been known as the Man of Steel. Clark thought the name felt cold, tough, dark - all things he did not want to be known for, and all untrue. People thought he was unbreakable, that nothing could hurt him or defeat him. He wished he could tell them all the truth - steel can break, no matter how strong it appears to be.

Clark had had time to grieve - Conner had only known a few hours, and this was the time that was most difficult to come to terms with. He was desperate to make sure the boy didn’t do something drastic.

He’d half expected to come home to see the boy tearing trees from the ground, tossing boulders into the air, doing  _something_  to get the anger and pain out of his heart. It was what Clark had done - more or less. After the shock had worn off, Clark had flown just above Earth’s atmosphere and let out an earsplitting scream that would have leveled mountains. He now mourned for the loss of two fathers instead of one. He’d flown into an asteroid belt just to turn meteors into pebbles, angry at the world, angry at himself; he had completely let loose and held nothing back. By the time he flew wearily home and collapsed into Lois’s arms, he’d felt more drained than he could ever remember feeling in all his years of being Superman.

“I should’ve been there.” Clark started, his voice low. “That’s what I keep telling myself. I should’ve known sooner that something was wrong. I was on the other side of the world when it happened, but I knew his heartbeat so well that I could always find it no matter where I was. I was in the middle of a search and rescue mission. We had just gotten them out from under the rubble, when suddenly… I didn’t hear his heartbeat anymore. I froze. Two seconds I stood there, completely paralyzed. I could’ve been at his side in one, gotten him to the hospital in the other. I flew faster than I ever had in my life, but it wasn’t fast enough. Two seconds, and he was gone.” Clark paused, closing his eyes briefly. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

When Clark opened his eyes again, he was startled to see the face looking back at him. It was like looking into a mirror to the past, right down to the old flannel shirt; his mother must have given it to him to change into earlier. Clark stared, feeling a strange combination of joy and grief.

It was Conner’s eyes that snapped him back to reality. They were full of tears, and one by one they fell like raindrops. Clark immediately went to his knees, pulling him into his embrace and holding him tightly. Conner was quiet, only letting out one small sound of grief as he returned the embrace, and that alone was enough to bring tears to Clark’s own eyes.

“Conner…” Clark’s voice was thick as he pulled back, his hands heavy on Conner’s shoulders. “He loved you. You know that, right? He loved you like a son.”

Conner’s breaths were shallow, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. They were red, bloodshot, tired. “I know. I just…” He met Clark’s eyes, and the sadness reflected in them like a beacon. “I thought I’d have more time…”

Clark nodded, understanding. “Me too, Conner.” He leaned against the barn wall, suddenly feeling exhausted, despite the sun’s rays shining down on them and filling him with its warmth. The two Kents sat side by side, gazing out the loft window and letting the quiet country sounds fill their ears, a soothing melody that calmed their hearts.

Clark sighed deeply, the air leaving him like a leak in his chest. “Me too.”


	4. Chapter 4

A gentle breeze stirred the tiny hairs on the back of Conner’s neck as he bent low to pick up the new section of fence that lay before him. A baby calf was investigating the strange new visitor, taking careful steps towards him as he worked, only to bolt back to its mother whenever Conner made too sudden a move. He’d been born a few weeks ago but had never been outside the barn; he was still small enough to fit through this hole and potentially get lost in the woods beyond the Kent property. Repairing it was just one of many small jobs that needed to be done around the farm - things that had been neglected since Jonathon’s passing. He didn’t mind, though. The work kept him busy, and kept him from thinking about his grief.

It was bittersweet, being here. He would walk the land and feel pangs of sadness, knowing he wouldn’t see the older man drive by on the tractor, or wipe his face with a handkerchief after picking vegetables from the garden. Every time he turned a corner, a new memory was there to remind him of what he had lost. Talking with Clark and Martha helped some, but mostly Conner kept to himself and tried to cope the best he could on his own. When he wasn’t preoccupied with sadness, his thoughts were filled with turmoil and indecision as he weighed his options. He’d been staying with Martha Kent for almost two weeks now, and Conner still wasn’t sure of what to do next.

Clark had told him the highlights of the Invasion - the aliens known as “The Reach” had been behind the attacks and abductions of young humans, using them for research and experimentation. He told Conner of how they had won the support of the public, sewing seeds of mistrust for the League and those associated with it. Eventually, they managed to record evidence of the Reach’s true plans and broadcast it to the entire world. The Reach panicked, and attempted to destroy Earth with magnetic field disruptors, which would have ripped the world apart. Thankfully, the three Flashes - Jay Garrick, Barry Allen, and Wally West, along with a young time traveler named Bart Allen going by the code name “Impulse” found a way to reverse the effects and saved them all.

Conner hadn’t asked many questions, although he had a hundred of them. Clark hadn’t told him some things, he knew that for certain. He could see the way Clark’s eyes glanced away when he reached certain parts of the story, as if he was trying to decide which events to omit. Details were very few, especially concerning those of his friends. M'gann wasn’t mentioned at all. Conner wanted to know more, but based on everything Clark had told him, he was too afraid of the answers he might receive.

When he finished with the fence, Conner went to take a seat on the porch steps, brushing the front of his jeans free of dust and dirt. He took a long drink of the lemonade Martha had set out for him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he (once again) contemplated his choices.

He could do anything he wanted now. He could travel without having to worry about being attacked or focusing on a mission. He could go to school, get a degree; he’d always been interested in History. He could get a job, an apartment, maybe someplace near mountains and lakes. He could have a whole new life - a  _normal_  life. He was fairly certain he’d never be recognized, not with the drastic transformation he’d undergone. He doubted even his teammates could pick him out of a crowd now.

His teammates… His friends… That was where his heart felt torn. Could he leave them behind? That had been the plan, after all, once he’d decided to go through with this whole thing. He’d been so tired of feeling like he was just muscle, and then not knowing what else he was good for once new recruits had arrived. He’d begun to feel like an outdated piece of hardware, watching as newer, shinier models came pouring in. He wasn’t like the others; they would become stronger, faster, smarter as they grew up, but Conner was stuck in his teen-aged body that would never physically grow, nor would his powers ever advance. But things were different now, weren’t they?

If he went back, picked up where he left off, would things really be different? He was physically older now, but his powers hadn’t changed. If anything, rewriting his DNA could’ve made him weaker. Ether way, he was still just a powerhouse, and Nightwing had plenty of those. True, Conner had the experience under his belt; he could be a leader, a good one too. He didn’t think that little of himself to say otherwise. But…

 _But what if that’s not what I want anymore?_ He thought.

All Conner had ever known was fighting, training, recon, tactics, wars and missions. Being a hero was his life, trying to be Superman had been his ultimate goal; but how do you live up to the best of the best when all you can do is punch really hard? How long can you go before you realize that this is it - this is as far as you are capable of, and you will never get any stronger, any faster, any better? These were the thoughts that had haunted Conner the last year before reentering the pod, before M'gann had violated his mind, before he’d even considered that he could ever have another choice besides the one he’d made underneath a full moon, surrounded by heroes years ago.

He wanted that choice again, even if it meant making a different one.

Shelby jolted awake from her spot underneath the porch and began barking excitedly. Conner followed the dog’s gaze towards the road and within moments, a familiar blur that only someone with enhanced eyesight could detect appeared over the horizon, zigzagging through fields and between neighboring farms like lightning before finally coming to a stop just feet away from where Conner sat. Shelby whined happily as Clark bent down to scratch her ears. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, more-so out of habit than anything else. He smiled at Conner.

“What’s she got you doing today?” He asked, gesturing with his chin towards the house.

Conner ticked off the chores he had finished on his fingers. “Chopped firewood, mucked the stalls, patched the barn roof, fixed the fence.”

Clark grinned. “I always hated cleaning those stalls when I was your age.”

“At least you had super-speed.”

Clark chuckled as he took a seat next to him. “Not exactly a job I’d recommend super-speeding through.” He wore a plain white dress shirt and dark pants, his tie windswept over his shoulder. He’d obviously just come from the Planet.

His tone became softer. “How are you?”

“Ok, I guess. Not much different from three days ago.” He said pointedly.

Clark rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, identical to the way Conner always did. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m hovering too much. I just… want to make sure you’re doing alright. You’ve never experienced loss like this before. I want you to know that it’s ok to feel whatever you’re feeling.”

Conner took another drink, giving himself time to find the right words. “I miss him. A lot. I wish I could’ve told him how grateful I was for everything he did for me. He was so… good.”

Clark nodded. “Yeah. Best man I ever knew. I’m proud to have called him my father.”

Conner glanced in his direction quickly. “Are you - I mean, how… How are you doing?”

Clark sighed softly, gazing out over the fields as corn stalks swayed in the breeze. “I’m coping. Some days are harder than others. I’ll see men in Metropolis walking their sons to the bus stop, or playing catch in the park, and I’ll be hit with memories of doing the same things with him. Sometimes it’s overwhelming.” A small smile softened his face. “Lois has been my rock. She tells me to keep living my life the way he raised me, and to pass on his wisdom whenever I can so that his memory can stay alive.” He twisted his wedding band absentmindedly. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Conner was quiet, and his heart felt just a little bit heavier than before.

As if he’d read his mind, Clark turned to look at him. “Have you made a decision yet?”

Conner shook his head.

Clark’s next words were carefully spoken. “Conner… Don’t you think you owe it to them? You know I didn’t condone you disappearing without at least telling them what you were up to -”

“I told Nightwing I was leaving.” Conner interrupted. M'gann had known too, he wanted to add, but that hadn’t been his choice.

Clark continued without pause. “- but to not tell them you’re back? That you’re alive and well? It just seems… cruel.”

The silence that followed hung in the air. Conner felt hot with anger and frustration, gritting his teeth. Beneath the anger, however, he felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach and he knew Clark was right.

Conner’s leg bounced on the porch steps, seemingly of its own accord. “What am I supposed to say?” His voice was exasperated. “‘Hey guys, it’s been a while but I’m back and I have a beard now?’”

“Maybe not in those exact words.” Clark smiled gently.

“I don’t know what to do.” Conner said miserably. “I thought I had a plan. Now I’m second guessing everything. You’re forgetting that it only feels like a few weeks since I’ve seen them.”

“And you’re forgetting that in reality, it’s been an entire  _year_.” Clark said. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Conner… there are some things you need to know about, things that happened while you were gone.”

Conner lifted his head and his leg went still. “What are you talking about?”

A beeping sound interrupted them, breaking the tension. Clark rolled up his sleeve and exposed a communicator that looked like an everyday men’s watch strapped to his wrist. A red light flickered continuously, and Clark hit a button along the side that turned off a hologram and exposed the real device underneath - a Justice League communicator.

“Superman.” Batman’s voice was clear but urgent. “We have a situation in D.C - more Reach vessels left behind. They must’ve planted them in the sewers, deep underground where our detectors couldn’t sense them. Three have been sighted in President’s Park, heading towards the Washington Monument. Four other attacks around the world have been reported, all within minutes of each other. Might’ve been on a timer. The rest of the League are occupied with those, and both GL’s are off-planet and unavailable. You’re on your own.”

Superman glanced at Conner and smiled, mischievously. “No, I’m not. I’ve got some back-up right here who’s just itching to get back in the game.”

“Copy,” Batman replied. There was a short pause. “Tell Conner I said hello.” The transmission ended.

Conner’s eyes widened as Clark stood up. “How did he -”

“Because he’s Batman.” Clark said. He looked down at him expectantly. “Well? Get dressed, and quickly.”

Conner turned his head and opened his mouth slowly. “You’re not serious.”

“I am. This is a two-person job and there are civilians in danger.”

Conner felt his heart quicken with nerves at what he was proposing. What it would mean if he suited up and went with him, to the nation’s capitol, to fight giant Reach robots - and the media covering everything. There would be cameras everywhere, that was certain. “Clark…”

In the second it took him to say his name, Clark had sped all the way to Metropolis, changed into his uniform, and back again. His cape billowed behind him for a brief moment before floating back down like a great flag. “We’re wasting time. I can hear people screaming right now.”

Conner’s adrenaline spiked and he felt his palms grow cold and clammy. He wasn’t ready, not this soon. He was terrified - not of getting hurt or even of being caught on tape, although that alone made him feel like he would hurl. No, what scared him most was the very real possibility that after today, his decision would be taken away and made for him, his chance to start over on his terms gone. Roped back into a life he wasn’t sure he wanted anymore.

But…

People needed him. Clark needed him. He could hear Jonathan’s voice in his head, telling him this was the right thing to do. How disappointed would he be if Conner chose not to help someone?

Conner sprinted up the stairs to his room, yanking one of his black t-shirts out of a full drawer and jammed it over his head. He caught a flash of red in the mirror and was taken aback at the red S. He must’ve grabbed an old one that Martha had kept in the drawer. He looked closer in the mirror and realized this couldn’t be the case; the shirt fit him perfectly, brand-new. Before he could figure out when and where the new clothing had come from, Conner spotted his old leather jacket hanging on the closet door. He snatched it and ran down the stairs, zipping it up so that the emblem was completely concealed.

Clark looked somewhat disappointed at his choice of clothing, but didn’t say a word. Conner braced himself as Superman grabbed him by the armpits and immediately took to the air, thunderous wind filling his ears. Once he’d gained some altitude, he leveled out so that Conner lay directly underneath him, held up by wind and the force of their speed.

They were only in the air for a few seconds, but in that short amount of time Conner noticed something peculiar. He had flown like this with Superman hundreds of times, dangling beneath him and feeling the pressure of the wind pushing him upwards, keeping him aloft. Usually this force kept him glued to Superman, with no space between them. But something was different this time.

It happened so quickly and they landed on solid ground so fast that it was hard to tell, but for a moment, Conner could’ve sworn that his body had felt weightless, free, and that there had been a sliver of space between him and the sky - like something in his body had awoken after all this time.

There wasn’t time to think on this any longer, though. As he took in the chaotic scene before him, Conner could only hope that he didn’t let any civilians, or Superman, down.


End file.
